“He was a misogynistic ass. Completely unworthy of my time,” I say, signaling the end of the conversation with my sharp tone.
Yaz shrugs and stretches. “Well, I tried. Anjie still owes me a week’s worth of meat pie,” she says giddily.
That Anjola Kuti will get a stern talking-to when I get home. The gall she has, offering someone else free pastries! I would’ve given her all the mind-numbing details of the lackluster date if she’d asked me.
“Heard about this year’s gala date?” Yaz asks as she heads for the door.
The Boston Hospital’s Foundation Gala is our annual charity event that always falls just before New Year’s Eve—a time for staff to parade ourselves to donors like beauty pageant contestants. This little act of self-exploitation goes a long way toward job security.
Aside from working hard, staff like me have to bring in either good money or publicity. Something to make the administration recognize our hard work because they wouldn’t otherwise. Typically, Black employees aren’t the ones considered for the Clinical Excellence award given out at the ceremony. But we earn them a lot of money. Last year, I raked in a few thousand dollars with my winning smile and charming personality. This year, I plan to go big. Not for the hospital per se, but for my clients. More money equals better services, and hopefully, more support for critical pro bono work for my patients.
Ever since Yaz joined, there have been more diverse hires at the hospital. Instead of five of us, we’re now ten. A better number—double digits, baby—but not enough. This is another reason the gala is so important to me. If I cement my place as an influential staff member, I’ll be listened to more often, and with less pushback. Medicine is too important for only one demographic to be in charge. My patients are too important.
“Yep! It’s the 29th this year. Praying the weather is good,” I say.
Yaz opens her mouth to say something, but her pager goes off. “Pray I’m not working that night.” She waves the black pager. “I’ll catch you later, girl,” she calls, jogging out the door.
My pager goes off as well, and I groan.
They couldn’t even let me do mindless, menial tasks for my entire free hour, huh? I roll my ankles as I rise from the ergonomic chair and make my way to Dr. Whitney’s office. She’s an older Black woman who has been on the team since long before I joined.
“Oh, look who’s here, Darrell.” Dr. Whitney’s pitch is high as she tries to coax out a boy hidden somewhere inside the room. An unofficial part of my job description as a developmental behaviorist is helping with shy kids.
I sit on the floor, crisscrossing my legs as much as my thighs allow. I pull out one of the blue toy sports cars I always carry in my pocket.
“I have a cool race car but no one to play with,” I say. A dark head of loc’d hair emerges from behind a chair, and Dr. Whitney gives me a nod of appreciation. I let her have the race car—I have plenty—and I leave them to their appointment.
Sometimes, I love my job.
As I leave work, I check my personal email.
The first email that catches my eye is fromCupid’s Bow.
[email protected]: Update! [RESPONSE REQUIRED]
I completely forgot—okay, that’s a lie—I neglected to give the app or my coach an update on last night. I didn’t see the point in setting up an entire meeting to tell Niyi my date was a weirdo who, rightfully, got chowder everywhere by the time I’d left early.
Dear Moyo,
I hope you are doing well.
I wanted to personally check in with you about your date with Julian. I see you have not yet logged in an update to the app. Is everything all right?
Oh, that’s sweet.
Mercury’s been a delight in all my interactions with them. They present a chill, down-to-earth vibe in the media, but for that to be their real personality makes me feel more secure in my decision to remain withCupid’s Bow.
However, we did receive an update from Julian, and we are sad to hear this wasn’t a perfect match. I have taken the initiative to schedule your first post-date debrief with your coach, Niyi. Please find attached the date, time, and location. Niyi, cc’d here, will be expecting you. Please confirm your availability with him in case of a schedule conflict.
Once again, thank you for being a part of theCupid’s Bowfamily.
Yours Sincerely,
Vinny “Mercury” Carr
I finish reading the message, and my face sours. To say I’m pissed off is an understatement. I can’t even begin to imagine the bullshit that pig Julian reported. From his behavior at the table, I know he’s somehow spun this to make himself look good. Boys like Julian are why I choseCupid’s Bowin the first place—to eliminate them from my dating pool.
What happened to the exclusivity and the vetting process? I’ll have to ask Niyi and see what he has to say. He seems like a thorough person. Similar to me in that regard. Exactly the type of person, I should be matche—
